School Spirit
by Ani101
Summary: Preseries: 16-year-old Sam has to manage a hunt alone in his current high school...
1. Chapter 1

**This is the second time I've done this chapter, I'm not completely sure what'll happen if I select replace content so my apologies to those who read this in the past if anything weird happens...but I wanted to do something about the messed up paragraphs which everyone agreed were annoying!**

**This is my first Supernatural fanfiction and basically I just hope people enjoy it...I've spent ****ages this summer reading loads of others and this idea just came to me...it's preseries, mostly ****about Sam who's 16; Dean is 20 but he comes in more at the end...probably this will be only a ****few chapters long but I'll just see where it goes...****Fareville is a completely fictional town and as I am English living in Belgium and have ****absolutely no idea about US high schools please excuse any glaringly obvious mistakes in that ****area!**

School Spirit

Chapter 1: Two Lives

Sam Winchester looked up from his work for just one second, stretching cramped muscles inhis back, to see Mr Hughes staring fixedly at him. He met his teacher's eyes, half-defiantly, and theman looked away. Sam returned his attention to his work. So maybe he was being a little belligerenttoday-he was just in no mood to be deferential after a hunt like yesterday's and all that it had involved.

It was bad enough that he had originally had other plans-he usually did. Sure, hesympathised with Dean, who never made any firm friends-though that wasn't to say he never got _physically_ _intimate_ with anyone-because he just didn't get the chance...but he just did, and he hadjust expected to wait in the car like he usually did while his father and Dean went after the damn werewolf, and he was just going to be completely useless, of course...so he had pleaded to stay athome. It was true that he did this nearly every time, but for God's sake, he was nearly seventeen,easily as capable of defending himself as Dean was and it wasn't as if he was going to be able to help with the actual hunt...

It had not gone well.

No, John had not been happy with the idea of him staying here in this little innocent town of Fareville, especially not when Sam told him why.

_"Would you care to explain to your brother and me _why_ you're so eager to get out of this __hunt?" John's voice dripped poison; Dean, pretending to watch TV in the corner though the sound __was muted, flinched at being incriminated. Sam gritted his teeth and straightened his back. One of __these days he would stop being scared whenever he had to stand up-really stand up-to his father._

_Just because he was scared didn't mean he wouldn't do it._

_"It's just, uh..." He already knew that this was hopeless. "There's a plan to, uh, go see a __movie tomorrow night, and I said I'd go, and..." He took a breath, trying to ignore the burning __contempt in his father's eyes. "I want to go. C'mon, Dad, I never do anything but sit in the car and I __already helped research all this..." That was true. It had been him to finally pinpoint who the __werewolf was, too. John had been convinced it was a middle-aged woman who had screamed when __he flung a silver knife at her-Sam had been the one to notice the young man it seared the skin of __when it finally hit the ground and bounced up again into his face._

_But he had known from the start that this would be hopeless. They had been here in this tiny __backwater town in Nebraska for a month now, the longest they had stayed anywhere for ages, the __March Sam was a junior at school and he was really beginning to feel like he had made some __friends..._

_"Sam, for God's sake are we having this argument again?" John snarled. "You're not __staying on your own, I've told you so many times it's not safe and I just don't get how you can be so __dense not to realise that yet!"_

_Dense. That hurt._

_"I'm not dense, everyone I know is allowed to frickin' stay at home alone, I'm sixteen years __old! You let Dean stay on his own when he was sixteen!"_

_Dean remained silent before the TV._

_"Dean," John said icily, "I could rely on to do as he was told and not get himself in trouble. __You, Sam, have yet to earn that trust. Now stop being so selfish and pack your things."_

They had tracked down the werewolf, and as Sam had expected he had been left in the carwhile John and Dean went out with their silver bullets and knives, leaving him with strict instructions not to get out. Left alone, fuming. Sure they were going back to Fareville for once, and there would be other opportunities. Sure all kids had family duties as well. It was just that...this really made no sense. So unbelievably stupid for him to just spend the night waiting here...and he _wasn't_ dense, he _wasn't_ selfish! He just wanted a bit of a normal life! Why was that such a big deal for his father?

And hell. He always got himself in trouble? _Would_ he, if they didn't spend at least one night a week chasing monsters?

_At about two in the morning Sam was beginning to realise that something must be wrong. __Neither his brother or his father had returned and neither was picking up their cells. He had heard __a long, drawn-out howl as well, not long ago-actually it had woken him up. Now he was beginning __to worry.__He had spend the whole car journey to the woods sulking and brushing aside Dean's __attempts at reconciliation. What if they were both dead and the last thing he had done to either of __them was get mad? He could not bear the idea...he hesitated, then pulled his own gun from his __backpack, already loaded with silver bullets. And he got out of the car._

_Dark. Cold. Silent under a full moon. He did not want to yell their names-what if the __werewolf heard? He was just going to have to go out there on his own...he glanced uneasily behind __him, wrapped his jacket closer around him. It had been Dean's...surely soon he'd be as tall as his __brother and then could stop wearing his old clothes. He tried to ignore the little voice inside him __that suggested maybe it made him feel strong, and loved, wearing his hero older brother's jacket. __And he strode boldly into the trees._

_It was hard to see five paces away in the gloom, the bushes pressing in on him like cold __fingers clutching at his clothing, his hair. His feet made no noise-John had taught him that much, at __least. He stared ahead, every nerve alert, senses heightened. Dean, he thought. Dean, c'mon, where __are you...Dad..._

_It hit him like a hammer blow, soundless right up until it was on him. Two hundred pounds __of hair and muscle and teeth, lashing into him and throwing him violently against a tree. He heard __himself cry out, fumble for his gun...he had dropped it barely two metres away...the werewolf __clawed at his chest, snarling wildly and he saw its fangs come down...his hands went up against its __neck, desperately trying to shove it off himself..._

_A single gunshot and the werewolf gave an agonised whine, then slumped forwards onto __Sam, and he felt its hot blood gush out over his face. He gasped for breath, its weight crushing his __lungs-then felt it shoved off him and struggled into a sitting position._

_John was standing there, face grim and angry, the gun glinting faintly in the moonlight in __his hand. Sam looked up at him and thought, just for a moment, that he did not know this man. Then __he saw Dean standing behind him, shock plain in his face, and he staggered to his feet and looked __his father in the eye, prepared for the outburst to come._

_"I thought I told you to stay in the car," John said tightly. _

No, it had not been fun. For one thing he had only had about three hours of sleep after John had finished yelling at him, and some of that in the truck, before getting up for school, and for another his back and sides were bruised and aching from being thrown against the tree like that. But nothing on Earth-or under it-could have kept him at home with his father's icy, disappointed stares or Dean's embarrassed silence another moment. He liked school usually. Here he could have his own space, his own world. Maybe his own made-up life. People who gave a damn about him because they thought he was a nice guy, instead of a family eternally disappointed that he couldn't be a better or more focused hunter. Here he got good marks and he could prove himself to teachers and classmates alike just by doing something he enjoyed. And Dean and John were stuck with it. He smiled over the history quiz he was working on. He knew the answers and that was enough.

At that moment the classroom door opened to reveal the headmaster standing there, peering in. Mr Hughes looked up in surprise.

"Oh, good morning, Mr Elson. Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually," Mr Elson said. "I'd just like a private word with Sam Winchester, if you don't mind."

Sam's head snapped up. Mr Elson looked...cold. Like something was wrong. Hell, what had happened? Had his father called or something? Was Dean hurt?

Mr Hughes looked vaguely confused. "Oh-very well," he agreed. "Sam..."

Sam stood up, shoving the stray chestnut bangs out of his hazel eyes, and stared at the headmaster the same way he would stare at an angry spirit advancing for his blood. Wary. Determined. Giving nothing away.

"My office, please, Sam," Mr Elson said coolly. "And bring your things."


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay that kind of escalated. The actual real Supernatural story is going to begin in this chapter, I didn't know chapter 1 would end up going on so long...**

Chapter 2: Lisa

"Is something wrong?" Sam asked his headmaster as they walked down the corridors together. "Did my family call or something?"

"No. Why would they?" Mr Elson opened the door to his office and entered; Sam followed, heart beating fast. Sure, he'd only been here a month...but he had still never been called to the office before. The headmaster sat down in the big leather chair behind his desk and gestured for Sam to take the one opposite.

"What's wrong?" Sam said. "Sir?"

"I assume you are aware that there is a large quantity of graffiti on your locker," Mr Elson said. Sam nearly sagged over the desk in relief. Was that really what all this was about?

"It was someone else's before, I didn't write any of it, I promise."

"Oh, yes. I understand. It's just that we take cleanliness very seriously here, and as you know we do locker cleanup every few months."

"Um..."

"Well, the caretaker was scrubbing yours earlier this morning and noticed that it appears to have a faulty lock as well. It popped open while he was cleaning it."

Why is he telling me this? Sam wondered. This is bizarre...

"Oh?" he said politely.

"He found something in your locker, Sam," Mr Elson said, his face deadly serious. And he reached beneath his desk and came out with an object Sam recognised immediately. His heart sank.

It was a knife, and he had put it there himself. His father insisted that both his sons always had a weapon of some kind on them at all times...he stared up at the headmaster and realised that he was lost for words.

"We have a very strict weapons policy here at Fareville High," he said quietly. "Turn out your bag."

Sam felt his heart sink, if possible, even lower. There was another knife in his bag, just a Swiss Army Knife, not a big, deadly pocketknife sheathed in leather like the one Mr Elson had found-but it was still a knife. Slowly he lifted his backpack onto the desk.

"Is there anything in there you want to tell me about?" Mr Elson asked him. Sam nodded silently, reached inside and pulled out the penknife.

Mr Elson nodded slowly. "Now, Sam," he said seriously. "I am willing to bet that you were not going to use either of those on school property. I know that you would not hurt anyone. But you must understand that I cannot let this go."

"Sir-" Sam said with an effort. "I just have them. I wouldn't..."

"I know. I'm going to confiscate both of these and if you want them back you will have to get one of your parents to come in and see me. You understand?"

_One of your parents_...huh, if only he knew...

"Yessir."

"And I'm giving you two hour's detention here tomorrow night as well, as a warning. If anything like this happens again, Sam, I will have to consider expulsion."

Sam nodded fast. "Yessir. It won't happen again."

"I hope not. You'd better go back to class." He turned to his filing cabinet, and Sam stood up and moved to the door.

"Thank you, sir," he said, and then left as quickly as he could.

Thank God he didn't have his gun on him...

He was heading to meet his friends at break, since the lesson was already over, and he was just on the stairs hurrying towards the locker hall when it happened. Suddenly Eva Mason was standing provocatively in front of him. Like she'd appeared out of nowhere. Startled, he nearly dropped his bag, and had to fumble to catch it while she laughed.

Eva was unanimously voted the hottest and easiest girl in class. She was head of the cheerleading team and had it all going for her-the hourglass figure, the blonde curly hair. That wasn't to say Sam exactly liked her, as she'd never talk to someone like him anyway, and she tended to be kind of mean, but when you were the geeky new boy and someone like that just appeared in front of you what could you do?

"Hey, Sam," she said in her high, sweet drawl. Sam smiled back uneasily, shoving his hair out of his eyes.

"Uh-hey?"

"Haven't really met you since you got here, huh?"

"I guess not..." She licked her lips and her smile widened as she saw his confusion. She stepped forward, backing him into the wall.

"Why'd Mr Elson wanna see you, Sam?" she murmured. "You been a bad boy?"

"Uh...no..." He stepped back again and his legs hit a chair strategically placed in the way. Startled he fell backwards over it, crashing down on the floor. Eva giggled and the sound was echoed by her team of identical friends who pushed out of the shadows at that moment. Sam felt like an idiot, felt his face go bright red.

"I guess not," she said sweetly. "Sorry, Sam, looks like I'm just too good for you." And she turned on her heel and flounced away, leaving Sam to struggle up from under the chair, cursing all cheerleaders straight to hell.

Chris and Alec, his friends, were deep in conversation by the lockers when he finally approached.

"Hey," he said to herald his arrival. They both turned.

"Hey, you got outa there alive! What'd he want?"

Sam shrugged and opened his locker, scanning the mess inside for his Maths book and still fuming about Eva. The knife was not there, its absence suddenly scarily conspicuous. He hadn't been unarmed away from home for years and he was surprised how unsafe it made him feel. "I...I left my, uh, penknife, in my locker." He grinned, trying to make it sound like something any teenage boy could do. "Got a detention tomorrow, is all."

Dad's gonna kill me...

"It's kinda obvious you're new here, y'know," Chris told him. "Elson's crazy about the weapons thing, isn't he, Al? Al?"

Sam turned. Alec was staring fixedly at the wall of the locker hall, an expression of bewilderment and ecstasy plain on his face. Chris grabbed his arm.

"Alec, what is it?"

"Look!" His friend grabbed his arm and pointed into thin air. "Look, Chris, it's her, it's Lisa! She's over there!"

Both Sam and Chris looked-there was nobody there. Alarm bells were beginning to ring in Sam's head.

"Alec," he said slowly. "Who's Lisa?"

"Her! There! In the red!" He started forwards and Chris grabbed his arm to hold him back.

"Dude, there's nobody there! Stop messing around!"

"Let go of me, she's..." His smile faded and his pointing finger fell. "She was right...there..."

"Oh, is she gone now?" Chris said, voice layered with an odd mixture of concern and sarcasm. Sam slammed his locker shut.

"Who's Lisa?" he demanded. Alec was still staring at the opposite wall in puzzlement and dismay, so Chris answered.

"She was his girlfriend," he said in an undertone. "Actually Mr Hughes' daughter, too. Before Christmas, before you arrived? They were crazy about each other."

"What happened?"

Chris lowered his voice still further. "She killed herself!" he whispered. "Slit her wrists in the school basement. People think it's cos she'd been warned she'd fail the year but Al thought it was his fault. He was really torn up about it..."

Sam stared at Alec in shock. The thing was, he had seen this sort of thing himself so many times...but how could it be happening here and now? What were the odds? He stepped closer.

"Al," he said softly. "Are you sure it was Lisa you saw?"

Alec turned back to him, grey eyes burning with passion and sorrow. "_Yes_," he said vehemently. "She was wearing the red jacket I gave her. She _looked_ at me. She was really there, Sam! Only, she...she just...disappeared..."

"What, just like that?" His heart was pounding. What if...was there any possibility...

Alec nodded mutely, then finally spoke again. "Yeah. Like...like smoke in the wind."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Hunting

Sam was in shock. Was there any earthly possibility that his friend's dead girlfriend could have returned from the grave? A restless spirit here in his own school?

If the circumstances had been any different, he realised, he would already have decided to check it out. He went through the rest of his classes that day in a daze, trying to think up his next move. But really, he already knew what it must be. He was going to have to go down to the basement-the place she had died so tragically-and check for any signs of a ghostly presence. If there was anything, then...he would just have to get to that.

So. How to get down to the basement...

School had ended for the day and most students had already returned home. Sam, however, jumped down off the toilet seat he had been standing on, just in case someone happened to check for feet under the cubicle doors, and peered out. There appeared to be no-one around...he stepped out of his hiding place only to leap back in alarm as a couple walked by, arm in arm. Engrossed in each other. He took a breath, told himself to stop being so jumpy, and tried again.

The school halls really were deserted this time, and his every footstep echoed on the tiled floor. The door that led to the basement stairs was ahead, and he hurried across to it and tried the handle. Locked, of course...he drew a thin strand of wire from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. Oh, the things a hunter carries round with him...the door clicked open and he slipped inside, closing it behind him and fumbling his torch from his backpack. The thin beam of light illuminated the dust and cobwebs stretched around him, and the stairs leading down into the unknown like a gateway into hell. He shivered-something like a dark presence seemed to have just flown over him, like a creepy premonition.

Oh for God's sake...

He began the descent carefully, as the steps looked old and he was afraid they might crumble. He could see nothing to either side without the torch-this place was abandoned and looked like it had been for years.

Abandoned except for a lonely junior girl who came down here to die...

He shook off his dark thoughts and jumped down the last few steps to the bottom. He shone the torch around carefully, peering into all the corners...nothing. Then he saw it-the chair at the back of the basement, alone and rickety-swarming with a plant he recognised very well. "Wormwood," he whispered aloud. Often a sign of a restless spirit...he looked closer and only then saw the bloodstains just visible on the chairlegs. His heart quickened.

She died _right here_?

A long, drawn-out sigh, and his torch flickered. He swore under his breath and twisted it. He didn't want to be left all alone down here in the dark...it flashed again, then went off, and Sam was plunged into darkness. He heard his breathing, hoarse and harsh in the silence, and then something cold touched his face. He yelled and stumbled backwards.

"There will be retribution..."

A girl's voice, cold and sorrow-filled. Sam was shaking. He began to stumble towards the stairs-or at least where he hoped the stairs were. So the school was haunted, after all...and apparently by Lisa Hughes...but why would she still be here? Because she had nearly failed the year? Because of loving Alec? Or something else?

He tripped over a stack of chairs and cursed as he fell, twisting his ankle painfully. Instantly he was on his feet again, grasping for the stairs...he nearly fell over the bottom step and, gasping, began to run upwards.

"Retribution..."

He heard the familiar swish as a knife was drawn and panic rose up inside. He fell on the door and shoved it open, tumbling out onto the tiled floor outside, panting, covered in dust and cobwebs. He slammed the door with his foot and lay there, panting.

The basement was haunted. And from the girl's voice, hissing for retribution in the darkness, and the sound of that knife, the spirit in the school was angry.

A sharp, piercing squeal cut the silence and Sam jumped a mile, heart hammering, before realising with some embarrassment that it was his phone. He pulled it out and cursed as he saw that it was Dean-that he had missed three calls. He flipped it open.

"Dean, it's okay, I'm on my way home..."

"Where the hell are you, Sammy? You think this is funny or something? You're so damn selfish, worrying Dad and me sick like this..."

Sam glanced at his watch and grimaced. He was an hour later than normal.

"Look, I'm sorry, I got held up, okay? I'm on my way home right now..."

"You better be, for God's sake why d'you do this..."

Sam got up off the ground and brushed himself down before heading out of the building into the cool March air. "Dean, calm down," he told his brother, who was still ranting into the phone.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Well. Saying Dad was worried about him was one big fat lie, because the man wasn't even home. He must still be at work and not even know that Sam wasn't back yet. Dean had got himself a job too, at the nearby garage, but it was Sam's bad luck that his shift ended at two, so he was always there to watch for his little brother.

Not so little, Sam reminded himself. Five eleven and counting...

Dean was waiting outside their tiny rented apartment for him, looking frantic. Sam rolled his eyes-Dean really had to stop being quite so overprotective, he really did. He waved from across the street and Dean instantly launched into a furious tirade.

"I mean bloody hell, Sam, first you nearly get yourself killed by a frickin' werewolf and then you're an hour late and you won't even pick up your phone..."

Ah. The werewolf coming so close to killing him last night. That was why Dean was so panicky. It happened every time Sam dodged-or didn't dodge-harm; Dean became crushingly protective of him for about a week, as if to make sure bad fortune had really passed his baby brother by and would not be returning. It could be annoying as hell, though...

"I'm fine, Dean," he said. "I got held up."

"Doing what?"

Sam hesitated. He did not really want to tell Dean about Lisa-he felt like it was more his own private hunt. It was stupid and very out of character...but something in him just wanted to prove to his father and brother that he wasn't a complete screwup- that he could do things on his own, that he didn't need to be so smothered...

That his father could trust him.

"Uh...talking to a teacher," he said. "Can you let me in the door now?"

Dean stood aside, looking slightly pacified, and the Winchester brothers entered the building together. It was a small, run-down apartment block, and they were right at the top. The lift didn't work, so they had to climb three flights of stairs to reach home. It consisted of two rooms and a grotty bathroom, but Sam and Dean were used to sharing.

That didn't make it any easier on either of them.

Sam dropped his bag on his bed and dragged free the books he needed to study from. Maybe he should tell Dean now that he had detention...before Dad got home. His older brother was lounging on his own bed, earphones shutting him out from the world.

"Dean." No response.

"Dean!" Okay, now he was definitely ignoring Sam just to be irritating. Well...let him. Sam could call him tomorrow and then at least wouldn't be guilty of getting him to do his dirty work for him-namely, telling Dad. Best not to mention _why_ just yet. Why he didn't have his knives any more...he stormed out, hoping Dad had left the laptop behind. He had some research to do.

**Please review even if negatively...i really do value your opinions...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much for your great reviews, I've tried to sort out the paragraph thing but I think the text will still only cover half the page...don't know what to do about that! Hope you like this chapter-warning: this is where it gets a little bloodier.**

Chapter 4: Death

Sam leaned back wearily and closed his eyes, trying to process all that he had found. Which was...very little. Maybe if he thought really hard he could connect it all together...

So Lisa Hughes had been the daughter of Mr Hughes, his own history teacher. There was a mention of Alec-he had spoken at her funeral. Sam had even found out where she was buried-Delgrove Cemetery across town. She had been on the cheerleading team but had left-or been kicked off-a few months before her death. That last month it seemed as if she had had no friends in the world but Alec-he had even checked the facebook pages of some other girls in their year. Very little to do with Lisa...

Sure, maybe she had been a slightly lonely teenager. But killing herself? He'd hacked into the school records and it was true-she _had_ been in danger of failing. But that in itself was strange, because the year before she'd been getting As and Bs in every subject. No family history of depression...he found a photograph-a pretty dark-haired girl in a red jacket smiling for the camera, her black-lined eyes full of light. Supposedly it had been taken one month before her suicide.

But even without his father and Dean's supernatural-tracking devices, he had found signs of a haunting down there in the basement, her place of death. Wormwood...bloodstains...and hell, he'd even _heard_ the spirit himself...

Fine, he thought. I just need to find some more information. Where can I do that?

He had two choices, and neither appealed to him. He did not want to bring her up to a grieving father or boyfriend...he could just imagine how much that would hurt. He didn't like people talking about his mother, and he had never even known her. Lisa had been sixteen when she had so tragically departed.

Undecided, he stared blankly at the computer screen-then jumped as he heard his father's key in the lock, and hurried to delete the history. This was _his_ hunt.

Sam came to school the next day still undecided. He had a lighter, a plastic bottle of lighter fluid and an entire can of salt in his backpack, but he was not seriously planning to do anything with them. Sure, he could just sneak off to salt and burn her bones, but he wanted a little more information first. Something about this did not make sense...and she wasn't technically violent yet.

Nothing had actually happened...

There was a crowd in front of the school building, he saw in alarm, and ran forwards. At least thirty people, gathered around something lying on the front steps. Sam felt his heart speed up as he approached, pushing through the shocked, silent crowd. Mr Elson was talking fast on his cellphone; another teacher was bent over something Sam instantly recognised. His breath caught in his throat.

Eva Mason was lying on the front steps, body splayed out and limbs scarily relaxed. Her famous face with its rosebud lips and gemstone-blue eyes was twisted into a grimace of horror, and both her wrists were slit open. She had been drained of blood and she was clearly dead, her blonde hair matted with something horribly red and sticky. Sam had seen such things before, though it never got any better-several others around them were throwing up.

Okay, he thought, taking a deep breath. Looks like our spirit has finally got violent.

The first class of the day, History, was unnaturally subdued that day. Mr Hughes sat almost silent at the front, clearly reliving that other death, so like the first...Alec too looked shell-shocked. Sam was beginning to realise that he was going to have to bring up Lisa in conversation with one of these two, or someone else was going to get hurt...

It definitely looked as if Lisa had killed Eva. But why? And how could he be sure?

The bell went at last and the class surged to its feet, scrambling for the door. Sam alone stayed behind, pretending to be struggling with his bag. Finally he and Mr Hughes were alone in the room.

"You'd better hurry along, Sam," the teacher told him. "Don't want to be late, do you?"

"No sir." He swung his backpack onto his shoulders, then stopped. "Sir, I wondered if I could talk to you about my last test grade..."

Mr Hughes looked surprised. "Oh-you weren't worried about that, were you?" Sam had got his lowest ever score in that subject for that test-a B minus. In his defence, he had been up till midnight the night before researching that damn werewolf for his father, and only had time to study in the hall before class right before the test.

"Well...a little bit," Sam said, improvising wildly. "I mean...will it have much impact on my term report?"

"No, Sam, don't worry about it. You've been getting straight As in this class apart from that."

"Thank you, sir," Sam said, then stopped. "Uh-do we know anything about how Eva..."

A distraught look flickered over Mr Hughes face. "She killed herself, Sam," he said softly. "We think so, anyway."

"But...why would she do something like that? I mean..." He hated himself for this. "Wasn't there another incident like that a while back?"

"Sam, you'd better get to class."

"I mean is there some kind of serial killer here?"

"Sam, for God's sake..."

"Sorry," he said, backpedalling quickly. "Sorry, I'm going. I'm going."

He found Alec leaning against the wall outside, waiting for him. "Oh-hey," Sam said in surprise. "Thanks for waiting...oh hell what's wrong?"

Alec looked terrible. Clearly he had not slept the night before and his face was paper white. He also looked as if he had been crying.

"Sam, I'm skipping next class," he said, his voice a broken whisper. "Okay? Can you cover for me?"

"Alec, are you all right?" Alec was like him-a good student. He would rather die than skip class...normally..."Seriously, what's happened?" His friend looked at him in despair; Sam thought he knew what this was about but did not want to say it...

"Sam," Alec said at last. "Sam, I think I'm going crazy."

"Why? Why would you think that?"

"Cos I keep _seeing_ her! Lisa! She's just...appearing, and then she's gone! Nobody else can see her, Sam!" He took a deep breath, fists clenching. "Sam, this is gonna sound really wacko but I have to tell somebody..."

"It's okay," Sam said, staring into his eyes. "It's okay, just tell me."

Alec looked terrified. "_I saw her standing over Eva's body this morning_!"

"What was she doing?"

Alec's breathing quickened, he looked completely panicked. "Sam, she...she was smiling down at it, and...and oh hell, her hands were covered in blood!"

Well, that tells me that much...Lisa did kill Eva...

"Alec," Sam said quietly. "You're not going crazy, you hear me? You ever heard of post-traumatic stress?"

"I haven't been in a trauma!"

"Losing someone you love?" He paused. "Alec, was Lisa...were her and Eva friends?"

Alec shook his head. He looked slightly calmer. "Hell no. Used to be, but then Eva pushed Lisa off the cheerleading team? Said she wasn't good enough but everyone knows it's cos Lisa was just more popular. They hated each other. I mean...ex-cheerleader? You're less than a nobody."

Right, Sam thought. That explains that...what if Lisa's trying to punish the person she sees as responsible for her death? If Eva was such a bitch to her she was driven to that...

"Alec," Sam said, as calmly as he could. "Have you seen her since then?"

Alec nodded. "Yeah...in class this morning? She was there at the front of the class, staring at Mr Hughes, her dad?"

"Staring at him?"

"Yeah."

"Just him?"

Alec nodded.

Why would _he_ be her next victim...her father...maybe she wants to tell him something?

"Okay, this is going to sound nuts, but..." He took a deep breath. "Were Lisa and her father...happy together?"

Alec shrugged. "She never talked about him. Or to him. It was weird, actually. Whenever you mentioned him she'd go all cold and panicky."

Well, that tells me very little, Sam thought. Is she going to kill again?

I guess I just better salt and burn those bones. Tonight.

**Please review hope you like how it's going!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Again thank you reviewers; I know I'm saying this for every chapter but I actually do mean it every time...**

Chapter 5: Detention

Sam remembered-barely-that he had detention that evening about five minutes before the last bell rang. Damn, he thought. I was gonna go to the graveyard...oh, well. Better to do it after dark I guess. Hopefully Mr Elson wouldn't keep him too long, in light of how a girl had died at the school only that morning... Sam shivered-imagining, against his will, what it must feel like to die. The knife stabbing into the girl's wrists, the agony as her lifeblood poured out, the utter horror as she realised that nothing could save her...so Eva had been a bit of a bitch. She didn't deserve to die like that.

Hell, I hope I never do. It was a bit much to ask for, maybe, being a hunter, but Sam just hoped he'd be able to die nice and easy in his bed when he was very old...

Okay this is very emo, he thought. Go to detention and stop thinking about death.

Mr Elson was waiting for him, holding out a sheaf of papers. "I want you to copy these out for me, Sam," he said. "Quick as you can. I presume you saw today why we have such a strict weapons policy?"

Sam cringed. "Yessir." He took the papers and went over to the desk to begin. There were maybe ten pages-school regulations, he noticed with a sigh. When were they going to think up a more creative punishment? Still, he was a fast writer. He bent his head over his work, hoping he could get out of here before darkness fell-he wanted to get to that cemetery. What if Lisa was going after all the cheerleaders who'd kicked her out and turned her into such a nobody? It would make sense. He'd come across spirits that did things like that before.

Silence fell. Mr Elson was working away on his marking and Sam was scribbling his third page when his phone rang and he cursed. The headteacher looked up.

"Cellphone _off_, please, Sam," he said disapprovingly.

Damn I forgot to call Dean...

"Uh-sir, I'm really sorry but I think I need to take this call...it's my brother..." He did not even have to check the caller ID to know that.

"_No_, Sam!"

"He worries about me, I forgot to tell him I'd be late..."

Mr Elson sighed and nodded. "Go ahead. One minute, you understand?"

"Thanks," Sam said, pulling his phone from his pocket and flipping it open. He glanced at the teacher, then moved out to stand in the hall.

"SAMMY WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU THIS IS NOT FUNNY ANY MORE!"

Sam moved the phone a little away from his ear. "Dean, I'm sorry!" he hissed desperately. Dad was one thing. Worrying Dean was very different, because Sam just knew that Dean cared about him. The only one who did. Dean really did get panicked if he was unaccounted for. And Sam loved Dean enough for that to hurt. "I'm in detention, I forgot to tell you yesterday..."

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN DETENTION..."

Sam was irritated. "What d'you think I'm doing you jerk?"

"What did you do?" Dean had quickly calmed down, apparently interested. Well, he would be, if it involved rule-breaking.

"I..uh...can I call you back?"

"Sammy-" Sam slammed the phone shut and turned it off before it could ring again. Now he felt guilty...and not just because Dean was quite capable of driving up to school to find him. But he had no time for this...why the hell should hunting alone be so difficult? He was just about to return to Mr Elson's office when he heard a groan from downstairs. He froze, listening.

"Hello?"

Again, a moan, clearly of pain. Sam frowned, began to descend the stairs. What he saw lying at the bottom made him stagger back in horror.

"No! Mr Hughes!"

The History teacher was slumped over the steps on his front, as if trying to crawl upwards, and he was coated in blood flowing from two long vertical gashes on his wrists. His eyes turned upwards at Sam and his mouth opened. A gargling rasp came from his throat-

"He..el..elp..." Sam ran forwards, grasping for his teacher's hand. "Mr Hughes, hold on,!" he cried desperately. "Hold on, okay?" Then he turned. "HELP!" he yelled into the silent school. "Somebody help me!" He grabbed one of the man's bleeding arms and lifted it, jamming his jacket over it and pressing as hard as he could. That was what his father had taught him-pressure and elevation to stop the bleeding. "Help me!" he yelled again-still nothing. He took a deep breath and fumbled in his pocket for his phone-dammit he'd turned it off. He took the man's other arm and pressed on the wound as hard as he could with his own hand. Oh God, he thought. Oh God don't let him die...

"Sam!"

It was Mr Elson-he had come to find him! Sam heard him clattering down the steps to grab the dying man's waist, turning him over. "Brian!" he called. "Brian, stay with me, you hear?" Brian. Must be Mr Hughes' first name, Sam thought. "Press as hard as you can, here," he told his headmaster, showing him, and then frantically switched on his phone again. Three missed calls from Dean, he noted out of habit, then hit the speed dial button for an ambulance.

In Mr Elson's arms, Brian Hughes gave one shuddering last breath. "Lisa..." he whispered, and then his eyes rolled up and he fell limp.

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews I really appreciate them and I hope you like this new chapter!**

Chapter 6: Breakout

"So, Sam, you were with him when he died."

Sam nodded. He was hoping that if he got this over with soon he might still have time to get to the cemetery-because he was in no doubt that it was urgent now. Two people had died and yet he could not predict the spirit's next victim, because there was simply no connection between Lisa's father and her ex-best friend. Sure, she hadn't been so happy with her father, but killing him?

Still, who ever said ghosts were logical?

"Mr Elson tells me you were the one who found him. Could you tell me how?"

He had ended up in the police station, of course. He and his headmaster had been taken in the back of the car, following the ambulance transporting the still, lifeless body of Mr Hughes. The cause of death was obvious to everyone-he had bled dry after slashing his wrists. The one thing no-one had found was the knife to have done it. That was how Sam had ended up here, facing Detective Meyers, and a very long way from Delgrove Cemetery.

"I was in detention," he said dully. "I went out to take a call from my brother..." His brother who was outside right now. The police had called him and Sam hadn't yet had a chance to speak to him, but Dean had definitely looked angry as the most unstable demon in hell. "And I heard someone moaning. I went to investigate and I found him lying there...still alive. He died...a few minutes later, after Mr Elson arrived."

"And you saw no sign of a weapon?"

"No."

"You see, Sam." Meyers looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Mr Elson tells me you were in detention for possession of two knives, which he then confiscated."

"Yeah."

"Would you swear to having no other weapons?"

Sam knew he was on unstable ground-he was in a suspicious situation and he knew that if he wasn't careful he was going to be facing a murder charge himself pretty soon.

"Yes, I swear."

"Is your father outside?"

Sam nodded. John had arrived a little after Dean, just as angry.

"Please wait outside while I speak with him."

Sam got up and went to the door-the moment he opened it Dean was on him, dragging him through and turning on the detective. "Are you done messing with my little brother?" he spat. Sam grimaced.

"Dean, it's okay..."

"John Winchester?" John stepped forwards.

"I'd like to talk to you a moment, if you don't mind..."

"If you must." John brushed past his sons without a second glance, disappearing into that tiny room. Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sammy, are you okay? What happened? They told us some lunatic got into your school and killed this guy, that you found him?" Dean sounded frantic-Sam could not blame him.

Sam nodded, suddenly unutterably weary. "Yeah, that's about it." It was definitely passing from obstinate to stupid, not telling his family about Lisa now, but still he did not. He was just too tired to think clearly. And he could not get it out of his head that it was his fault that Mr Hughes had died-he had been too late. He had known the danger and he had done nothing, and now a probably innocent man was dead because of him.

Suddenly his head snapped up. He thought he knew where he could find some information now, and there was definitely no time to lose. He stood up and grabbed his backpack from where it lay by his feet.

"Sam?"

"I gotta go..."

Dean shot to his feet and grabbed his little brother by the shoulders. "Are you nuts, Sam? You can't just go wandering off _now_!"

"I have to do something..."

"What?"

Oh, damn, Sam thought, but was distracted at that moment by his father coming out of the interrogation room, followed by Detective Meyers. The latter looked slightly more friendly than he had-John, on the other hand, was looking at Sam like he wanted to kill him right there and then.

He had no chance of getting out. John and Dean marched him to the truck-the latter watching him narrowly all the way, as if expecting him to make a break for it-and made him get in the back. John started the engine and for a moment there was silence.

Then the storm broke.

"What were you _thinking_, Sam? Not telling us about your detention and worrying us sick? And tell me why you are always at the centre of any trouble in this family!"

"I forgot about the detention, okay?" Sam returned angrily. "I just forgot. Human beings do that sometimes!"

"Stop answering back, Sam, for once in your life show a little respect! What d'you think it does to us, having to come and get you from the police station? And losing your weapons? How could you be so irresponsible?"

Ah. So the detective had told him.

"We're not allowed them at school-"

"If you weren't so careless with your things-"

"I wasn't, they were perfectly safe! None of this is my fault!" Except letting Mr Hughes die...

"Sam-" Dean interjected. "C'mon-"

As usual, he was ignored.

The moment they got home Sam slammed out of the car and up the stairs to their apartment without saying a word to either of them. John turned to Dean with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Just tell me why it's always Sammy-"

"I know," Dean said. "I don't get it either."

Up in his room Sam dropped his bag on the bed and kicked Dean's, hard. Then he moaned in pain as his foot began to throb.

He had to get out of here. Finish the hunt...get to Mr Hughes house...he knew where it was; last week he had written his address on the board to mock a student who still hadn't handed in an ancient piece of homework but kept insisting it was at home. "Well," Mr Hughes had said. "How about you post it to me some time?" Sam had never written it down but he had a good memory. He had just the faintest idea...he needed to know who the next victim was likely to be. Had to find the pattern between Eva and Mr Hughes...just in case. And for that he needed to see Lisa's house.

"So how to get out of here?" he said aloud-he had no time to lose, if he was so save anyone else... And his gaze was caught by the fire escape a few metres away from his bedroom window. He smiled grimly.

Sam tipped the schoolbooks out of his bag, leaving only the lighter fluid, lighter and the salt, then swung the much-lighter backpack onto his shoulders. Then he opened the window and peered out-it would be risky, but he thought he could make the jump. They were three storeys up-he had better not to wrong. Then suddenly he thought-Dean! And turned back to his bed. He pulled some of his clothes out of the drawer and piled them underneath the quilt, forming a roughly Sam-shaped lump, before setting his foot on the windowsill, taking a deep breath and launching himself at the fire escape.

For an instant he thought he had misjudged it.

And then his body slammed into the cold metal, sending a rattle like a thousand dancing skeletons clanging away down the entire staircase. He stumbled to his feet-he had done it! And looking back just once at the lighted window of his and Dean's bedroom he began to run down the fire escape.

**Please review and tell me what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I updated again today because school's started again and I may not be able to so often after this...  
****Okay this chapter is kinda gory which is why I changed the rating to T just to be safe**

Chapter 7: Digging

Sam ran under cover of darkness, horribly aware that he had very little time. He was not afraid-he remembered vaguely that he'd been scared of the dark as a little kid but that time was over and done with. Odd, really, how he'd only _stopped _being scared when his father and Dean finally told him about the terrible real monsters actually hiding in the shadows. Years ago now...

And look where you've ended up, Sam. Could you do anything stupider than this? Even Dean's not allowed to go hunting on his own and hell, there's a very good reason why not. If you'd told them about Lisa, would Mr Hughes be dead now? And you know what-instead of logically going home and talking to them about it you're running off to fight the spirit on your own. How is that in any way sane?

Too late now.

He caught a bus to take him downtown-he had just enough money to pay for the fare. The bus driver looked at him oddly but said nothing-it might be a little strange seeing a sixteen-year-old boy getting on a bus at midnight, but most people round here were just accustomed to teenagers acting incomprehensibly. He got his ticket and went to sit down-for once there were seats. He put his hand into his backpack, feeling the can of rock salt and reassuring himself that he was not unarmed.

He was no longer certain that Lisa was responsible for all this. The world of spirits could take strange turns, but why would Lisa kill her father? Alec had said they weren't close, but still...Sam was beginning to wonder of there was actually another spirit at work here, one with an actual grudge against both Eva Mason and Mr Hughes. Maybe Lisa's death hadn't even _been_ a suicide but somehow connected to this other spirit's plan...there was only one way he could see to find out. He was going to break into the late history teacher's house.

He got off the bus two streets away and walked the rest of the way. The house was locked, of course-the police had not yet been here. Good. Sam walked around it until he saw an open window on the first floor, then set his foot on the wall and began to climb up the drainpipe. He was betting that they did not have a burglar alarm-he had not seen one and knew from experience that a lot of people just didn't bother. He gained the top of the drainpipe and reached out for the sill of the open window-he could not reach. He cursed, hanging in oblivion, inches away. His arms were shaking and he knew he would fall pretty soon if he wasn't careful. He wanted to yell Dean's name for no other reason that his brother was always there to help him-but not this time. Dean was at home, maybe not even aware that he was gone yet, and Sam had got himself into this mess and would have to get himself out of it too. Teeth gritted he lunged again for the sill and his body came away from the drainpipe completely, leaving him dangling from one hand off the windowsill. His breath came in panicked gasps as his fingers began to slip-

He swung his other arm up and with an immense effort gripped the inside of the window.

Then it was just a small matter of dragging the rest of his body up and tumbling through the window. Finally he lay on the floor inside the moonlit room, breathing hard, his chest and arms scraped so badly he was amazed the skin wasn't falling off them. But he had made it.

He got to his feet and looked around; he appeared to be in Mr Hughes' bedroom, as he could see the double bed, the timelines stretched across the wall, the closed wardrobe. Wow, he thought. The man really didn't seem to live here. Except for the indistinct pictures on the walls the room was bare, even the bed looking as if it hadn't been slept in for a week. Maybe that was his imagination, since the man was dead.

He crept across the room on silent feet to take a look at the pictures on the wall, and what he saw made him gasp in horror and jump back. He recognised the girl in them-the dark-haired, pretty face he had seen the day before online-Lisa- but she was no longer smiling. At least five pictures, each as horrific as the last-in one she stared up at the camera with a horrible expression of defeated misery, her hands tied behind her back, naked, her stomach caked with blood from a flesh wound pulled across it by a knife. In another she huddled on the floor, hands over her face. Sam stared in absolute horror and disgust and he realised what this was. He knew now why Lisa's restless spirit had killed her father, if he had abused her like this. His hands were shaking, he realised. He _had_ to get to the graveyard.

He hurried out of that room of horror and his attention was caught by an open door just across the hallway. He did not want to enter but something drew him across to push the door open. He knew instantly that this must have been Lisa's room, and it too was dusty and bare. Long abandoned. He looked slowly around at the bed with its pink, flowered quilt, the partly-open chest of drawers, the posters on the walls, and sadness welled up inside him.

Oh, God, Lisa...how could that sicko do something like that to you?

It was time to get to the graveyard.

Half an hour later Sam had found Lisa Hughes' grave at Delgrove Cemetery. A small plot, a simple headstone, a few bunches of dry flowers at the base. Maybe Alec had put them there...he had a spade; if his father had taught him anything it was that there were always gardener's sheds to break into if you needed one. Sam had marked the house and vowed to bring it back; he did not like stealing it but there was not much choice. He could never have sneaked one out of the apartment. This is going to take a while, he thought, and began to dig.

Halfway through his task his phone rang, and he dusted grave dirt off his hands to check the caller ID. Dean, of course. They must have finally discovered his absence...he stared at it hopelessly for a moment, then slid it away into his backpack. He could not answer it now.

Not much later he had pried open the coffin, only to be horrified by another surprise-it was empty. Lisa's body was gone.

Sam stumbled back into the wall of the grave. How could this be? Was it not a spirit after all but some kind of zombie? That wasn't possible...Alec had seen her when no-one else could. Definitely a spirit. But then why was her grave empty?

There was only one possible answer-someone had taken it away. Buried it somewhere else?

How could he find out where? Alec? He imagined the call-"Hey, Alec, I've just dug up your girlfriend's grave but her body's not there. D'you think you could tell me where it might be? I need to burn it." No, that was not an option. All he could do was go back to Mr Hughes' house and hope he could find something there...before Lisa killed again. He sighed and clambered out of the grave. He was exhausted, his brother must be panicking about him and it was two in the morning, but he had to finish this tonight. He had just picked up the spade to shovel the dirt back into the empty grave when he heard footsteps, and saw the light of a torch through the trees.

No, not now...he glanced at the mess of Lisa's grave, then back at the approaching torchlight. He could not afford to be caught here now...trying to quell his panic he turned and flung himself behind a nearby gravestone, huddling up small enough to fit just as the intruder appeared on the scene. The footsteps halted, shocked. Sam closed his eyes. Then the voice, horrified and bewildered:

"What the hell?"

And Sam nearly screamed right then and there, in frustration and in surprise. It was Alec.

**Alec is it? Please tell me what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Stalked

Sam closed his eyes tight and tried hopelessly to make himself invisible. He could just imagine how Alec must be feeling right now-coming to visit Lisa's grave in the middle of the night was a sign of utter desperation, and really who could blame him? And finding it dug up and desecrated...

How am I going to get out of this one...he could not run, Alec would see him if he moved. And then it hit him-the spade! He had left it lying there in the dirt and it would be covered with his fingerprints. If Alec took it to the police he was done for...how on earth could he explain?

And then he cursed Dean for the rest of his life as his phone rang again, shrill and piercing in the stillness, from inside his backpack.

In seconds Alec was round the gravestone, face twisted in rage, flinging himself bodily on Sam. For just a moment Sam was winded, knocked to the ground, but then his old fighting instincts cut in and he reared up on top of Alec, pinning his friend to the ground. The other boy stared at him, speechless in the faint moonlight. And then he recognised him and horror blasted through his expression.

"_Sam_? Oh, God, Sam, tell me you didn't do this..."

The phone was still ringing. Dean must be frantic...Sam had counted on getting this over with before now. He was beginning to panic-he felt like he was in way over his head and he had no idea how to right the mess he'd made. And where was Lisa's body? Why would it be gone? He stared down at Alec, then slowly sat back and let him up.

"Alec, I know what it looks like..." The phone rang off. Sam knew he had to call back but right now he dared not take his eyes off Alec. His friend was staring at him as if he had suddenly sprouted horns and a forked tail. Maybe I have, Sam thought gloomily. The way I've screwed this up...there must've been _some_ demonic intervention...No wonder Dad can't stand me.

"Sam, tell me, swear on your _mother's lif_e that you didn't do this to Lisa's grave." Alec was white and shaking and his voice was hoarse. He looked...destroyed. Desperate. Sam stared up at him, hurting from the mention of his mother, and decided to tell him the truth. There was nothing else he could do.

"Okay, Alec, you have to listen to me very carefully and trust me..."

"Why the hell would I trust _you_?" The loathing and panic in his voice cut Sam to the core.

"I didn't take Lisa's body. Yes, I swear on my mother's life. But someone else did, and I'm looking for that person." A bit of the truth, anyway...come on, where could it be...the house? Maybe just maybe that perverted excuse for a History teacher had dug up his daughter's body and left it somewhere in the house?

Abruptly it hit him. The place of her death, All the hauntings. The wormwood on the storage lockers.

Mr Hughes-for it could have been no-one else-had hidden her body in the school basement.

Alec looked surprised. "Why are you doing that? You didn't even know her."

Sam struggled to come up with a plausible story. "Look-I promise I'll explain all this to you tomorrow, but I have to find her body and I think I know where it is. So let me go and I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Okay?"

Alec didn't move. "Why would someone take Lisa's body? Where is it?"

"Can I tell you that tomorrow, too?"

Alec shook his head; there was a strange intensity in his eyes. "No. I'm coming with you, wherever you're going."

"You can't-"

"Stop me." He got to his feet and Sam followed him. "I'm coming with you, Sam. You can explain on the way."

Sam gaped at him. "Alec, you have no idea what you're saying..."

"Yes, I do. I have a car. You want a lift or do I have to chase you through the streets?"

Sam was stuck. Short of knocking Alec unconscious, something he was just not prepared to do, he could not stop him following. And it would be useful to get a lift...he stared into his friend's grey eyes and saw only determination and grief there. He did not think Alec would betray him and he knew what a struggle it was for his friend to trust him even this far. He nodded.

"Fine. But we have to fill in this grave first."

Alec picked up the spade and Sam began kicking the dirt in as best he could.

Ten minutes later Alec's dad's car pulled up outside Fareville High School; Sam had been directing Alec all the way from the passenger seat and now his friend sat staring up at the familiar building in amazement. Sam got out of the car and heard Alec's door slam too as he followed him. He turned back and made one last effort-

"Maybe you should stay in the car, it could be..." Alec ignored him. Sam went up to the door-he had left it unlocked when he left last time and now pushed easily inside, closely followed by his friend.

"What are we doing here, Sam?"

Sam glanced back at him. "Uh-I think her body may be here?"

Alec stared as he flicked his flashlight on. "Why the hell would it be here?"

Good question, Sam thought. No way would he let Alec find out the truth about what Mr Hughes had done to Lisa. It could destroy him. He swiftly picked the lock on the school door, and led the way into the darkness of the hall, when he suddenly noticed Alec was no longer following and turned.

"What is it?"

Alec was looking desolate. "Sam...who did this to her? Took her body? Hell, she had enough pain in her life..."

Sam cocked his head. "You mean the cheerleading thing?"

Alec shrugged. "Yeah. And...her mother'd died a few years ago. And then.." He took a breath and the words spilled out of him like water, as if he could no longer hold back the truth. "Sam, it's _my_ fault she died!"

Sam stared. "What d'you mean?"

Alec rubbed his eyes; maybe he was crying. Or maybe it was the dust. "I mean...hell I never told anyone...Sam, she broke up with me but it was my fault! We had this huge argument...I...I cheated, I admit it, it was Eva Mason, you know what she was like...and then...I said I was sorry but she...she wouldn't...she left me and hell I deserved it but Sam I _hurt_ her! And three days later they found her in the basement here, and...and...and she was _dead_!" He covered his face with his hands and Sam stepped forwards, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Alec, it wasn't your fault..."

"Sam, she killed herself 'cause I hurt her. Of course it's my fault."

"No, you're wrong. She...she had a lot of problems, Lisa did. Eva was a bitch to her, sure. And...I think her home life wasn't great..." This poor girl, outcast at school, abused by her father, and then losing the one link she had to reality, her boyfriend Alec...just too much. She had killed herself in own school...and yet it hadn't been enough. All the anger inside her at the wreckage of her life had come back and it wasn't letting go easily. Eva was dead. Mr Hughes was dead. Sam looked at Alec and a horrible fear came over him.

He thought he might know who her next victim might be.

"Okay," he said, heart pounding. "Okay, Alec, listen. We'll talk about this later but right now you have to do something for me. I need you to go back to the car and not come out. You understand? You are in danger in here!" Probably Lisa's spirit could not leave the school, the place where her life had been destroyed...so Alec would be safe off the school grounds...

Alec shook his head. "No, Sam, I'm coming with you."

Sam turned to him, desperation in his face. "Alec, if you stay here then you will die! You understand? The...one...whos' killed Eva and Mr Hughes-they want you next, you hear! You have to go!" Alec looked confused, but nodded slowly. "I...I'll be in the car," he said uncertainly. "Don't be long? D'you want me to call the police?"

"NO don't do that. Just stay in the car, okay?"

Alec nodded, looking grim but afraid. "Sam, what are we doing here?"

Sam looked back out of wide hazel eyes. "Just trust me. I promise it'll all make sense but we don't have much time. Just tell me-would today have been a special day for Lisa in any way?"

"March 16? Yeah, it was the anniversary of her mother's death. Why?"

Sam felt fear rise up inside him. Lisa had killed twice today already-it looked as if she was aiming to take another victim by sunrise.. Spirits had rules-maybe this was the only day a year Lisa would be free to do as she wanted? Alec had seen her yesterday but she had done nothing-maybe she couldn't. He could not be sure but didn't want to risk it. He glanced at his watch-three AM. So speaking from past experience, Sam was pretty sure that some time in the next few years, on the 16th of March, Alec was marked for slaughter.

Or any time in the next three or four hours.

"No reason. So stay there, you hear? Don't leave the car for anything."

Alec nodded again, looking as if he was in a dream. "Sam?"

"Just go." He waited till he had seen his friend descend the steps, then turned and headed for the cellar door, knowing he would have to search quickly if he was to get back and protect Alec. He picked the lock again and slowly began the descent downwards, careful this time to turn on the light. This was his best guess-if that sicko Mr Hughes had hidden the girl's body anywhere surely it would be here, where the signs of a haunting were so rife? The chair was still there, the bloodstains prominent. The wormwood boiled up around it, covering a storage locker-Sam approached warily, already certain of what he would find there, and had just put his hand out to the lock when he was startled by a sudden horrific bloodcurdling scream from downstairs, and jerked up in panic.

"Alec?" he yelled. "_Alec_?"

No reply.

**Comments are much appreciated!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you everyone who reviewed!**

Chapter 9: Salt and Burn

Sam threw himself up the stairs, almost falling at the top, yelling his friend's name all the while. He came bursting into the locker hall, terrified of what he might be faced with, and there he saw it.

Alec was standing pressed against the back wall, was staring in utter horror at something directly in front of him, something Sam could not see. Apparently Lisa only allowed her victims to see her...

"Alec!" Sam cried. "Alec, hold on!" But his friend did not even hear him, paralysed by horror. Sam could well imagine what he was seeing-maybe Lisa advancing, holding the knife she had cut her own wrists with? Alec suddenly shrank back and Sam leapt forwards in terror for his friend's life. He stumbled, flung himself against Alec and bore him to the ground, and only then felt the searing agony in his side. He heard himself cry out, the sound echoing oddly, but then his hand was on the salt, somehow fumbling it open and flinging it wildly in front of him. Something fell back-and now Sam could see it too. If only the victims could see her, then Sam had suddenly become one of them-she was plain in his sight, pale and translucent and flickering, but quite clearly the girl from the photographs. Her dark hair fell limply over her shoulders and she was wearing the red jacket Alec had given her before their fight-the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and Sam could plainly see the open gashes in her wrists, the blood still congealing. In her face there was nothing of the smiling, lovely girl he had seen online-this apparition bore a visage twisted by hatred and pain. In her hand she held a long , bloody knife which she was already raising again.

Through the agony searing into his side, through his panic as horrific quantities of blood spilled out of him, Sam realised that he was still wearing his backpack. Lighter...salt...he struggled to focus. He became aware that Alec was screaming his name beneath him; he wondered why. The spirit was raising the knife again and Sam suddenly remembered-barely.

Salt and burn.

Gotta find that body...

He staggered to his feet, head spinning, blood pouring from his side. He was not sure exactly where the knife had gone into him, but it was clear that it had gone in deep. He was cold and fearfully weak and he knew that he was going into shock. Somehow he found the strength to reach inside his backpack and pull out the cannister of salt, spraying it upwards and forcing Lisa to back off once more. He did not have long before his body shut down on him; their only hope now was that the body was indeed inside the storage locker. He grabbed Alec's arm and somehow dragged his shell-shocked friend over to the basement door, pulling them both down the steps so unsteadily he would have knocked them both flying if not for Alec's support at his side. He fell to his knees at the bottom and crawled across to the locker. Black spots were dancing before his eyes but Alec's yell of alarm and the flickering lights alerted him and his hand came up with another fistful of salt, repelling Lisa once again, the movement sending hot streaks of pain through his side. He shoved a handful at Alec and fumbled with the lock, instructing his friend as he did so.

"Throw...throw it if it...comes near..." he managed, his voice sounding strained and harsh. The overhead lightbulb died abruptly, plunging them into blackness, and Sam felt in his pocket for his flashlight. And then he had fumbled the lock open in the dim beam of light on instinct alone-he was much too used to this sort of thing. There-with a blast of the familiar stench of death and decay, the rotting corpse of Lisa Hughes, at last. His head spun and black dots again danced in his vision. They were kind of pretty. He felt the world tilting and his hand came down on the cold tiled floor. It was spattered with blood, he noticed with interest as his eyes began to close.

"SAM!"

Alec...

With an immense effort Sam turned. Alec was backed against the wall beside him, handful of salt held out in front of him, and Lisa's spirit was raising the knife above him. The sight was enough to give Sam another boost of strength and he reached out and awkwardly grabbed the corpse's hand, pulling it free of the flammable wooden locker. As if in a daze he saw his hand go out and scatter salt over the rotting body. Body working on overdrive he pulled out the plastic bottle lighter fluid and dribbled it over the salt.

"Sam?"

He turned back once more, his body like an iron weight to move, in time to Alec fling his fistful of salt at Lisa. She snarled and came on. Sam fought to focus-only the sight of the knife so close to his best friend's arm could have spurred him to make that final effort, pull free the lighter and throw it over the corpse. It caught, and the spirit screamed hopelessly, a terrible eldritch sound, but nothing Sam had not heard before. He pushed himself weakly away from the blazing heat and watched detachedly, without interest, as Lisa's spirit finally went up in flames.

He lost time after that, only a few seconds, because suddenly Alec was holding him up on his knees, asking him frantically if he could hear him, and the light had flicked back on. Sam nodded weakly, looking down in amazement at the blood still surging out of his body. He had to do something, he remembered...it looked as if Lisa's knife had gone right into his side between his ribs...pressure. That was it. I have to stop it bleeding. He looked up at Alec and suddenly the world lost focus and swung sharply sideways. His face was lying on the cold floor. Why was it doing that?

"Dean..." he whispered.

"Sam, hang on, I'm calling an ambulance, just hang on, okay?" Alec sounded panicked. Sam wondered why-it didn't even hurt any more.

"Call Dean..." he mumbled. "Alec is...is it gone?"

"Oh God I'm so sorry I came in but she was there, Sam, beckoning, and it was _Lisa _I _had _to follow her only then she pulled a knife and I ran...I'm so sorry...Sam?...Sam, stay with me, please!" He felt his friend patting his face as he finally closed his eyes, felt someone fumbling at the wound on his side. He heard a curse and wondered if it was Dean. And that was his last thought as his world finally went black.

...

Dean was driving wildly, desperately around Fareville, searching endlessly and hopelessly for his little brother. He had been doing it for hours now; he knew that his father was conducting a similar search elsewhere. He was fast losing hope of ever finding Sam; he could not understand why the kid had just taken off like that...he did not realise it but he was muttering fast to himself as he drove.

"C'mon, Sammy, c'mon, where are you, you're gonna be all right, Sammy...please..."

It was then that his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, saw that it was Sam's cell-at last-and snatched it up, flipping it open desperately.

"Sammy? Where are you?"

"Uh...hello? Is this Dean?"

It wasn't Sam's voice. Dean felt his blood run cold as he replied. "Yes. Where's my brother?"

"He's here with me, he told me to call you...he's hurt, he..."

"Where are you? Did you call an ambulance?"

"Yeah, but it's not here yet...we're at Fareville High School, he told me to call you, I'm Alec, please come quick, he's..." The boy's voice was panicked, unfamiliar. Dean was already swinging the car round. "How bad is he? Can you put him on the phone?"

"He's unconscious I think, I can't wake him..."

Dean swore, barely noticing that his eyes were burning as if he was about to cry. Dammit, Sammy, if you make me cry..."How long?"

"Uh...ten minutes? He got stabbed by...by this _thing,_ he saved me..."

Okay, so what exactly had Sam been up to? On the phone or not, Dean was already breaking the speed limit and he would just like to see the cop who tried to stop him now.

...

He reached the school barely five minutes later and without even cutting the engine dashed inside. The boy, Alec, shouted something from somewhere, and Dean glanced around in panic, seeing no-one, before glimpsing the open cellar door, and flinging himself down the stairs, where he stopped short in horror. Sam lay on the floor in a growing pool of blood, face scarily white, eyes closed. His side had been gashed open and was still pouring blood. Stricken with terror Dean dropped to his knees beside his little brother, feeling desperately for a pulse, a heartbeat...he could feel nothing at first and he felt his breath catch in his chest...then, slow and fearfully weak, but there, a throb under his hands. Sam was alive, though barely. He yanked off his jacket and pressed it down over the open wound in the boy's side, silently furious that Alec had not thought to do so before he had arrived. He could hear a siren now and knew that the ambulance was near...Sam's salvation was near. The kid had lost far too much blood; he bent over his baby brother's motionless form, calling his name.

"Sam...Sammy, c'mon, open your eyes, it's me, it's okay, Sammy, I know you can hear me..." He thought that Sam stirred slightly but could not be sure...somewhere his mind registered that there was a charred, almost destroyed corpse only a metre or so away and realised that for whatever reason Sam had had to banish a spirit. Why hadn't he told them? "Dammit, Sammy," he muttered hopelessly. "Why would you do that?" He did not want to leave his brother but the body had to be hidden before the paramedics got here...he motioned to Alec. "Shove it back in the locker," he commanded. Alec looked terrified.

"_What_?"

"You heard me, hide it!"

Alec reached out to the body, an expression of bemused horror in his face, but as soon as he touched it it crumbled away to ashes. Dean shrugged and turned back to Sam just as the first paramedics came rushing down the stairs, carrying a stretcher. One tried to push Dean away but he clung on tightly to Sam, terrified that if he let go for even an instant Sam would disappear forever.

"Please, sir...we're trying to help him, there isn't much time..."

Dean forced himself to sit back on his heels, never taking his eyes off Sam's ashen face as they lifted him onto the stretcher. He did not even stir, and that scared Dean more than anything else. He followed them out of the cellar, dimly aware of Alec hurrying in his wake; they were loading Sam into the ambulance now and Dean jumped up with them.

"There's no room in here, you're going to have to follow in your car..."

"I'm not leaving him alone!" They registered the anguish and fury in his voice and said no more, only shutting him out as they began to work on Sam's lifeless, bloodstained body, as the ambulance streaked away into the night. Dean lowered his face into his hands and finally gave himself over to his despair. "Goddammit, Sammy," he whispered. "Why is it always you?" He was keeping one ear open to the hushed whispering of the paramedics at all times and he suddenly leapt to his feet as he heard the dread words-

"He's not breathing!"

And Dean swayed as if the world had just broken apart above his head.

**Sammy is not breathing...please comment!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much everyone who reviewed, favourited or anything else it just reassures me that someone out there likes this!**

**Okay there's more Dean and John in this chapter-but Sam's here too, it's still his story!**

**Oh, and please bear in mind that I have no medical knowledge whatsoever, so please excuse any mistakes in that area!**

Chapter 10: The Hospital

Dean Winchester sat with his head in his hands in the hospital waiting room, a position he had assumed an hour earlier and not budged from since. He was alone, and inside his head he was talking fast and fiercely: Don't give up, Sammy, keep fighting. Don't give up now...

"Dean?"

It was his father's voice, and Dean looked up at last, eyes red with exhaustion and haunted with anxiety. John was striding into the waiting room with a face twisted with worry and now slumped into the chair beside his son. It was nearly six AM but the sky had not yet begun to lighten.

"I got your call, you said you'd found Sammy and he was hurt...how is he?"

This was the side of John Sam never saw, anyway. When Dean looked into his eyes the fear and the love for his youngest son shone out so brightly it was like glistening tears there-but for some reason, John never allowed Sam himself to perceive it. And Dean knew that Sam loved his father too, really-he was just so headstrong and independent, and he just wasn't like the rest of his family, not driven and focused like them...Sam had so much more light and warmth about him, so much more peace. Dean didn't understand how that could ever be constituted as a bad thing.

"I don't know," he forced himself to say. "He's still in surgery."

John sucked in his breath. "Dammit, Dean, what happened?"

Dean shrugged brokenly. "No idea. I got a call from his friend and rushed to his frickin' _school_ to find him lying there with his side cut open and the ashes of some corpse beside him..." He took a breath, blinking fast. "He was unconscious all the way here..." He could not bear to speak of that terrible moment when Sam had abruptly coded, when the panic to restart his breathing had turned into full-scale resuscitation-his little brother's heart had stopped. He had lost so much blood Dean was amazed there was any left...even when they had finally got his heart beating again he had not woken...

"Guess we won't know till he wakes up," John mumbled thoughtfully. "Sounds like he tried to salt and burn something, but..."

Dean turned on his father, fear morphing abruptly into anger. "Just _shut up_, okay? I don't get it either and for God's sake can't you just leave him alone?" He _never_ spoke this way to his father but right then he did not care. John looked surprised but did not call him on it.

"I wasn't getting at Sammy, Dean," he said softly. "I'm just confused."

"Yeah, well, join the club." Dean hunched over again, covering his face once more. At that moment another voice sounded through the waiting room: "Dean Winchester?"

Dean jerked to his feet to see the doctor who had originally take Sam off his hands into surgery emerging into the waiting room. He was a tall, middle-aged, mahogany-skinned man with a kindly expression in his eyes, and he was just pulling off a pair of plastic gloves.

"Is my brother all right?" Dean demanded. John stood up beside him and the doctor shot him a quizzical look.

"Their father," John explained, and the doctor's face softened. "Dr Parr," he said. "I was overseeing the boy's surgery."

"How is he?" Dean cried, voice raised in impatience. Dr Parr gave him a sympathetic look.

"Sam is alive," he said at last, eliciting sighs of relief from both men, especially Dean, who had witnessed first hand the severity of his little brother's condition. "He is recovering now in Intensive Care. I must ask, though-what happened to him? It's clearly a stab wound...went right between two ribs and into the side of his left lung, it collapsed in the ambulance. He lost so much blood I'm amazed he survived..." He broke off, shaking his head.

"We don't know either," John explained, shaking his head.

"That boy he was with couldn't tell me anything," Dean said softly. "Scared out of his wits...can we see Sammy now?"

"He's still asleep, we have to keep him sedated for the pain right now," Dr Parr told them. "But you can go and sit with him if you want." Dean nodded and followed him out of the room, preparing himself for the worst. He felt light as air-Sam had made it. Now he felt he could take anything.

Sam lay perfectly still on the dead-white hospital sheets, his untidy chestnut hair the only spot of colour above his ashen face. Dean felt his breath leave him in one great gasp as he took in the sight of him lying there; he did not remember crossing the room, aware only that suddenly he was beside Sam, holding his hand tightly.

"Oh, hell, Sammy..."

The doctor and his father had come up behind them but he barely noticed them, all his attention focused on Sam. His brother looked so fragile and vulnerable...

"Sammy, you did so well, fighting so hard, I'll admit you worried me that time but I guess you're stronger than we thought, huh, Sammy?" The words poured out of him almost involuntarily; no-one but Sam could make such a girl of him.

"You'll be okay now, Sammy, I'm here with you..." He took a seat on the edge of the bed, a seat he did not intend to leave for some time, and took Sam's skinny hand in his own. Behind him he could hear the two men talking in low voices.

"Is Sammy completely out of danger, then?" John asked. Dean heard the doctor's sigh and felt his entire body tense up.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Mr Winchester, the wound was a bad one. Sam was lucky it didn't penetrate any deeper than it did."

"Is he still in danger or not?" John said dangerously. Dean recognised his tone; it was the same one he used when Sam was just annoying him that _little bit_ too much, and it heralded an explosion. He thought that Sam's white, unresponsive face looked just a little more scared upon hearing it and hastened to whisper: "Don't worry, Sammy, he's not mad at you."

"Yes," Dr Parr answered baldly. "Yes, he is. If we're very careful then he should make it, but at the moment I can't say his chances are very high. Percentage of..." He stopped and John filled the pause.

"Percentage of what?"

"About twenty, thirty percent, I'd say. If he wakes up he should be all right...but...you have to understand that we are not optimistic. We can do no more now, it's all up to him."

Dean leaped to his feet, rage pulsing through him. "Well then he's gonna be fine!" he snarled. "Because you don't know Sammy like I do and I know that if there's one frickin' chance in hell that he'll make it then he will take that chance! You know it, Dad! For God's sake have a little faith in the kid!"

"I didn't say anything, Dean," John reminded him. "I'm not giving up on Sam yet."

Dean sat down again and resumed his old position. If Sam needed his strength then he was going to get every drop. If Sam needed his life...

No. He is not going to need it. He isn't that bad...

"Why?" John was asking Dr Parr. "You've patched up the wound well enough."

"He had some severe internal bleeding and while we've tried to deal with it I can't yet say whether the entire operation was a success. He lost a lot of blood, Mr Winchester, about four pints and we had a very advanced state of shock to deal with as well. There is nothing we can do but wait until new information comes to light."

"So when will he wake up?" Dean demanded without turning round.

There was a terrifying pause.

"_When_?"

"Dean, your brother is in a coma," Dr Parr said gently. "I can't say when he will wake up when we take him off the painkillers. It happens sometimes with severe blood loss, the body just shuts down."

Dean felt a scream rising within him and choked it down, staring hopelessly at Sam's motionless face. He saw his hand reach out to brush the cold, white cheek as if it did not belong to him.

Oh, God, Sammy, how did this happen?

...

He had stepped out to go to the bathroom a couple of hours later, and on his way back stopped briefly by the window. The sky outside was white with clouds and the tree branches against the window tapped in the faint breeze. Desolate. Empty. Dean felt like it was representing his mood.

Sam could not die. It was impossible. Unthinkable.

He leaned his head against the cool glass and desperately prayed to a god he did not believe in. He would believe in anything if it would help Sam, he thought. Do anything.

At that moment, a shout from down the corridor startled him. His father's voice, raised with emotion. The very sound of it terrified Dean. John, normally so hard and controlled, sounded frantic. Panicked. Scared. Horrified... Dean was already running in the direction of the voice by the time he registered the words he had spoken.

"Dean, come quick! It's Sammy!"

**Ummm...another cliffhanger? I think that's three chapters in a row now...hehehe...reviews are much appreciated!**

**I know I keep mentioning Sammy dying or Dean saying he'd give anything for him or something...this is because of All Hell Breaks Loose which is really fresh in my mind at the moment and these little comments are meant to sort of slip through...those two episodes really tore me up!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay well this is the second last chapter, hope you like it! Again, thank you all reviewers!**

Chapter 11: Pride

Dean burst through into Sammy's room with his heart screaming in his chest, and his gaze went straight to the bed, where his little brother appeared much more wakeful than he had before. He was thrashing and moaning as if being tortured, and his face was streaked with sweat and broken with lines of pain. Dr Parr and two nurses were grouped around him, the former trying to calm the agitated boy but without much success. John was stood back against the wall out of the way, looking terrified. Clearly Sam was having a seizure of some kind, and clearly it was hurting him.

Dean rushed over to the bed and grabbed one of Sam's flailing hands on his own. "Sammy!" he called desperately. "Sammy, come on!"

"No...no...Dean, where's Dean..." Sam's usually soft voice was panicked and harsh with fear and pain, and it tore Dean up to hear it.

"I'm right here, Sammy!" he said fiercely. "I'm right here, I won't let anything bad happen to you..." The doctor and nurses had backed off a little, seeing Dean able to get so close. Sam twisted his head towards his brother, eyes still clenched shut, and Dean came down on the side of the bed and gripped the boy tightly around the shoulders, holding him close.

"It's okay, Sammy, it's okay," he murmured softly. "It's okay, you're safe now...just calm down..."

Slowly, in his brother's arms, Sam's frantic struggles quietened and the shaking racking his body subsided. Dean felt him go limp against him and relinquished his tight hold a little, lowering his brother back down onto the bed. Sam gave a kind of scared murmur and Dean took his hand again, holding tight to anchor him, and with his free hand brushed away the sweaty strands of chestnut hair falling across Sam's face.

"There you go, Sammy, you're gonna be just fine, you hear me? You're safe, I'm here with you..." Sam stirred slightly in response to his voice and his eyelids flickered.

"Yeah, Sammy, that's it, wake up now...open your eyes for me..." Dean's every nerve was focused on his brother now, every scrap of attention. The room behind him was deathly quiet.

Sam moved his head slightly on the pillow and his eyes half-opened. "Dean?" he whispered. "Where...where am I? Dean?" He sounded afraid, fearful gaze scanning the room frantically until they settled on Dean and a faint smile ghosted over his face as he relaxed, turning slightly to lay his head against his brother.

"You're in hospital, Sammy, got yourself hurt again..." The words were meant as a gentle joke but Sam's hazel eyes opened fully and there was a wounded look in them. "No, I didn't mean that..."

"S'okay..." His voice was barely audible.

"Sam, how're you feeling? Anything hurt?"

"Not so bad," Sam returned hoarsely, and tried to push himself up on his pillows. Dean, registering that his brother was probably hurting a lot more than he admitted to, put a hand out to press lightly on his right shoulder, pushing him back.

"Lie still, you just woke up, you've been in surgery..."

"Surgery? Why?" Then alarm flared in his eyes and he sagged back, apparently having remembered. "Where's Alec? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, Alec's fine thanks to you, don't panic now..."

John came round the bed at that moment, only Dean seeing the relief in his eyes. "Hey, Sam, how're you feeling?"

"Okay," Sam mumbled, wondering if his father was angry.

"You gave us quite a scare back there," John told him, weak inside with happiness. Whatever he had said to Dean, he had been terrified for Sam.

"Sorry, Dad," Sam mumbled. "I was..."

"You know, none of us know exactly how you got yourself into this state," his father said in a low voice. "Maybe you could tell me?"

Dr Parr and the nurses took this opportunity to creep away and give the little family some time. The way the older boy cared for the injured Sam, so instinctively and gently...it touched the doctor deeply. He had never seen anything like it.

And what was more, he had been overly optimistic when telling the family Sam's chances only an hour earlier. It seemed almost miraculous that he could be awake now, and he was impressed as he never had been before by the boy's strength. He had fought harder than the doctor could have ever expected. He had simply not expected him to ever wake up.

Meanwhile, Sam was reluctantly telling the tale of his hunt, ending with Lisa's spirit going up in flames, eyes lowered for fear of seeing his father's disapproval. He felt too weak and sore to stand up against that right now...both Dean and John were silent as he spoke, and it was only when he finally fell silent, staring down at the sheet, that Dean commented.

"Oh, Sammy, why didn't you tell us what you were doing?"

Sam shrugged, unwilling to give the real reason.

"You could have saved yourself helluva lot of trouble and pain..." Dean pointed out, somehow unable to be annoyed with Sam right now, inwardly very impressed by his courage and determination. And they said he wasn't a good hunter...

Sam glanced up at John. "You're not mad at me?"

John shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed, but said nothing.

"Seriously, though, you should've told us," Dean was still saying.

"I didn't want to," Sam said huskily. "I wanted to do this one on my own."

"But why?"

Sam scowled down at his hands. "I wanted to prove I could do something right, to you," he muttered at last. There was an electric silence and then John took one of his hands. Sam looked up at him with trepidation through those wide, intense hazel eyes.

"Oh, Sam, you did this for that?"

Sam shrugged and winced, prompting a nervous jerk from Dean, as if he had to stop himself leaping to his feet and calling for a doctor. "I know I'm not as good as you guys but I wanted to prove I could hunt too, _not_ _screw up_ too..." His scowl deepened. "That sure worked."

John stared his youngest son directly in the eyes, and the embarrassed look had returned to his own. "Look, Sam," he said uneasily. "You...you shouldn't have done that..." He made a noise of frustration. "But dammit, you did well. It was a good hunt." Abruptly he stood up and stormed across the room, apparently afraid of seeing Sam and Dean's reaction to his unusually sensitive words. At the door he stopped without turning round and took a breath.

"It was very good," he said with a bit of an effort. "I...I'm proud of you, Sam." And then he was gone, leaving the brothers alone with their surprise.

**Awww...Sammy is okay! And look-no cliffie! There's only one more chapter now so I'll probably post it today as well...as always please comment and I hope you like John cutting Sam some slack for once...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Ummm...I've never been stabbed so I don't actually know how long it would take to recover. Probably more than a week, even for Sam Winchester? Sorry if I got that wrong!**

**Also, I do realise that the chapter title is extremely corny...it just seemed to fit!**

Chapter 12: A Sort of Home

Sam stood leaning against the school gates, waiting for the bell to signal the beginning of the day. Dean was just round the corner in his car; since Sam had almost died by Lisa's knife eight days before he had barely left his brother alone for a second. Sam had only been released from hospital yesterday, by which time he had already been going insane at his confinement.

Alec had been to see him, nervous and tentative, on the fourth day, when Sam's condition had been stable enough for the doctors to allow other visitors. His friend looked as if he was afraid for his sanity, but his words were important.

"They asked me if you'd done it to yourself," he had told Sam uncertainly. "They, uh...don't get mad, but they asked if you could've had anything to do with Eva and Mr Hughes' deaths...I told them no way."

"Did they accept that?" Sam had asked.

Alec shrugged. "I told them there'd been another man. Wearing a hood to hide his face, who stabbed you and took off. I guess they're still searching for him in connection to the other deaths as well."

"Wow," Sam said with a grin. "Some story."

Alec took a deep breath. "The truth is scarier."

They had stared at each other in dead silence.

"Sam," Alec had whispered at last. "Can you swear to me that I'm not going crazy, that it all really happened?"

Sam had not known what to say. Tell Alec he was mad, and...tear him to the core. Or tell the truth, which, as his friend had pointed out, was much scarier. At last he looked up.

"You're not crazy," he said quietly. "But you don't need to worry any more. She won't come back. You have to move on with your life."

Alec nodded, eyes determined. "I don't think I want to know the rest, do I?"

Sam shook his head. Alec gave him a weak smile.

"You saved my life, Sam, and you nearly died for it. Uh...thank you?"

"It's nothing," Sam answered, a little embarrassed. "Just...try and forget what happened, okay?"

Alec had left quickly after that, and Sam had not seen him since. It must be a lot to take in, even not knowing the full truth-he must have guessed that it had been Lisa's ghost that had almost killed him and Sam himself, and he was just a normal person, not a hunter accustomed to life-or-death struggles. Maybe Sam had that to be grateful for in his life-he knew, for better or worse, how to save lives.

But I won't be doing this forever. I can't. There's more to life than this...

John had made the decision to remain here for another month; Sam wasn't sure if it was to give him time to recover fully, to scotch any police rumours or just because he thought he had found something to hunt in a small town two hours drive away. He did not really care. Sure, he'd be dragged along on this hunt too, no doubt, and maybe they would make him sit in the car again but he was not taking it for granted. If his father had told the truth when he had said, that he really was proud of what his youngest son had done...

Sam knew that what he had done had been stupid and reckless to an extreme, and he had nearly gotten himself killed to prove it. But he had banished the spirit, and he had completed the hunt, and for that John had to see his capabilities. Maybe he hadn't proved that he wasn't a danger magnet-he did know _himself_ that he could be a hunter. And knowing that he _could_ meant, somehow, that he did not have to.

He breathed in the cool morning air deeply as he looked up into the pale, clouded sky. He did not know what the future would bring. Things might change; then again maybe they wouldn't. Right now he was just glad to be staying here where he had made a sort of home. Dean had not wanted him to return to school yet, but Sam was going to get the most out of this extra month in Fareville as he could with regard to his studies. This was an important year for him, and he had already missed enough. Dean would leave, hopefully, after he went inside. He was ridiculously early, but right now anything was better than another minute of Dean's fussing.

At that moment he heard a car door slam and sighed as his brother came striding round the corner, eyes fixed on Sam. He stood up straight, feeling the still-tender, healing scar on his side stretch with the movement, and folded his arms.

"Dean, nothing is going to happen to me between now and the school being opened in three minutes. Trust me and go home, okay?"

"I don't think so, Sammy," Dean answered with a smirk, taking up a position leaning against the wall beside him. "I'm staying right here to make sure nothing happens to ya. And there is nothing you can do about it."

"Dean-"

"Sammy..." Suddenly his brother turned to him, face deadly serious. "You know it wasn't your fault those people died, right?"

Sam turned away to hide his expression. Of course it was. "Where'd that come from?"

"I just know you've been thinking about it. And those photos you saw at the house."

"Dean, it's fine-"

"No, it's not!" Dean came around to face him. "Sam, it was Lisa killed them, all right? You can't blame yourself!"

"How do you know I am?"

Dean was stuck for an answer, momentarily. It sounded too much like a chick-flick moment to say that he could just _tell_ somehow when his little brother was hurting, and because he knew him so well, he could usually guess why.

"I'm your big brother," he said flippantly. "I know everything. You hear me, though? This is not your fault. You did the best you could. Except for not telling Dad and me. That was just plain stupid and I sure as hell hope you never pull something like that again."

"That's what it is," Sam sighed. "If I'd told you those people wouldn't be dead." His face was lowered and the breeze ruffled his floppy chestnut hair. He's only sixteen, Dean thought with a twinge of desolation. He shouldn't have to deal with this sorta crap...

"That's not true," he said softly. "When me and Dad hunt people get killed, Sammy. We try not to, dammit we try really hard, but sometimes it happens and we can't do anything about it. Sometimes it is our fault. But you have to remember-what we do is about trying to _save_ lives. Get it? Probably no-one could've saved those people, not the best hunter in the world. You have to understand that it_ isn't your fault_!"

Sam grinned suddenly. "Wow, Dean," he said. "You're getting all philosophical in your old age."

"Yeah, that's right, Sammy, laugh it up..."

"Hey. My name's _Sam_."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure it is...I have no idea why you're so desperate to get back to school, geek, you know that?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be at work right now anyway?"

Dean looked momentarily alarmed, then shook his head.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Sammy." He shook his head and leaned back, allowing the faint sunlight to fall on his face. Sam watched for a moment, and then mirrored him.

"If you're ever as tall as me you'll understand these things better," Dean was saying vaguely. Sam raised his eyebrows.

"What, so height goes with maturity? I'll remind you of that when I'm towering over you."

"Now _that_," Dean said emphatically, narrowing his eyes, "Is one thing that is _never_ going to happen."

**THE END**

**Thank you so much all reviewers for encouraging me throughout this story and for pointing out my mistakes, and I hope you all enjoyed it! I certainly enjoyed writing it _and_ reading your reviews! You made this worthwhile**

**I'm going to post chapter 1 of another Supernatural fanfic very soon, called _Dreaming True_, in case anyone is interested...**

**Once again, thank you for everything and goodbye!**

**Ani**


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